Heart of Ice
by Vaya
Summary: Based around a quest chain in Icecrown. A Blood Elf Warlock bent on revenge finds herself unlocking a terrible secret in the icy north.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. _

Author's Note: I wrote this ages ago, this is the tweaked (ie I noticed all the plot errors, spelling mistakes and formatting issues), revolves around a fun quest chain in Icecrown.

The cold of Icecrown was like no other. The chill of death was here, it permeated the land, the air, the ice, everything. No amount of clothing or fire could keep it out, and here, at the Court of Bones, it shot straight to the soul.

The rider of the flying beast which was now touching down near the Cathedral was at least glad at the reassurance that she still had a soul to be chilled. Her robes, dark and at first unremarkable seemed powerless to keep out the cold, even if magic danced all over them. A closer inspection would have revealed powerful glyphs, seeming to move like shadows over her body. Her face was mostly covered, except for a space for her piercing green eyes. As soon as she landed and dismissed her mount, a large, dog-like creature with enormous jaws, scales and tentacles appeared seemingly from no where, to take up position behind her.

Her green eyes glowed as she scanned the Cathedral from this distance. Cultists seemed to cover it, she noted without surprise. Why not? She thought, today was a special day. She didn't need to kill them all, just one, so she could slip in unnoticed. Given the amount of dark magics coming off her, she thought with a silent chuckle, they would barely notice her presence.

One of the cultists was moving off she noted, probably to take a piss, but whatever the reason, now was her chance. She moved in a bit closer, and began channeling the shadows to her, building up dark energy to start her work.

_Six days earlier in Dalaran_

Lyeald sat in The Filthy Animal, drinking a glass of wine and taking a moment to relax. It was the first time in months that she had been able to do this, and she wasn't going to rush it. After trekking to Icecrown and aiding the Argent Crusaders take the breach and then the pinnacle, she had then been pressed into service by both the Ebon Blade and Warsong Offensive. Koltira Deathweaver, whom she had met in Dragonsblight before, had had her rushing around, mainly to secure the Shadow Vault and to destroy several plans of the Cult of the Damned, before admitting that he had run out of stuff for her to do. She had seized the opportunity to take a break and flew directly to Dalaran. She had wanted to go back to Silvermoon City, but Koltira had asked her to not stray too far, since it wouldn't be too long before he needed her again. Dalaran would do, she thought, and she hadn't had a chance to explore it before, though right now all she wanted to do was drink and sleep.

Once her room was booked she was glad to have taken off her traveling clothes and change into something more comfortable, a simple lavender dress she always kept with her. Looking in the mirror, she was startled to see that she had almost forgotten what she looked like. Her almost pitch black hair, which was usually in a bun on her head, was now loose and falling past her waist, framing her pale face in a stark contrast. Her features were sharp, serious, moreso in the past couple of years she mused. She appeared to be quite delicate, especially when compared with those of her kind who chose more physical pursuits, but this belied an inner strength that put all of them to shame. Dealing with the forces of the Burning Legion and bending them to the will was not for the faint of heart.

Other Blood Elves strove to tap the arcane for their addiction, she had chosen a different path. The powers of shadow, of the dark forces just beyond their world, they had called to her, that day when she saw her beautiful city destroyed by the Scourge. Anger and vengeance had burned in her heart, giving her the strength to take that path, to use the very forces that would destroy this world to reap her revenge upon the Scourge.

She shook her head and tried not to think of that day, of the Scourge, the Burning Legion, or any of the other great powers threatening her world at the moment. Revenge had been her only concern for years, and she had burnt a bloody path to become strong enough to come here. Once in Northrend she had tirelessly fought the Scourge, securing the presence of the Horde and diminishing their numbers. It was only now, that she had reached the very core of their hold on this world, that fatigue had begun to sink in. There was so many undead to kill, she was beginning to feel a sense of hopelessness about the future of her world.

Looking out at the city, one could easily believe that there were no such troubles in the world. Plants grew, people moved about, plying their trade. It was only the lack of children and the tension in everyone's demeanor that reminded one of where they were and what they were up against. Here in the Horde section, the bar was like most others she had visited in Ogrimmar, loud, smokey and reeking of animal skins. She had been tempted to go to the Legerdemain, but there was something oddly comforting about the noise here. It meant life, she guessed, and not just the cold stillness of Icecrown.

Something heavy was slammed down on the bar next to her, causing her to jump and almost spill her wine. She turned to glare at whoever it was maybe set him on fire or something but instead froze. He was a troll, tall and lanky, with the usual tribal markings all over his face and chest. His dark green hair blended with his aqua skin, which always made her think he belonged in the ocean. It was big and bushy, but secured as much as possible behind his head. He was dressed simply, as she was, but the last time she had seen him, he had had a nasty long bladed sword and an impressive set of armor.

"Cer'ango," she said, smirking saucily, "what a pleasant surprise to see you here."

He smiled, flashing his sharp teeth at her, and sat down next to her at the bar, "I certainly wasn't expectin to see you either my girl, what are the chances anh?"

She let out an ironic chuckle, "probably better than you think, everyone is moving through here these days."

"Ja, I hear ya, I been in Zul'drak tryin to keep da trolls dere from overrunnin the Crusaders," he said taking a swig from the beer the barkeep had produced in a hurry without him even having to ask, "finally got em runnin, so I was cut loose. Lookin for the next job."

"I'm waiting for the next one out of Icecrown," she said, surprised by her lack of enthusiasm.

He shuddered, "Ja, I hear dat be a bad place mon, I'll be makin my way up dere, but I ain't in no hurry."

She didn't respond, but looked pensively at her new drink, which had remained untouched. What was this funk she was in? It used to be that the prospect of destroying anything filled her with energy, now she couldn't even muster it up to wipe out her most hated enemy.

Cer'ango didn't comment on this, but instead finished up his drink quickly, seemingly oblivious to it drizzling down his his jaw and chest. He put down the stein and let out a tremendous belch that she was sure would have caused a quake, had they been on solid ground and not in a city floating in the air. He winked at her and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Whats say we make the most of this break time, eh?" he asked, getting close to her ear.

She let herself smile, finally she found something she could get excited about.


	2. Chapter 2

Lyeld was already naked when she settled herself onto the thick furs and leaned back on her elbows, watching Cer'ango take off the last of his armor. Stripped down, he carefully set it aside before standing up and stretching up to his full height. She took the moment to admire his wirey but muscular body, her eyes settling on the already hard long cock. He grinned at her attention and knelt in front of her. She let herself be pulled up on to his lap and kissed him feverishly.

Kissing a troll was skill, especially for a soft skinned elf. It was surprisingly easy to be grazed by the sharp tusks, losing bits of lip or even tongue to the teeth, or otherwise injuring oneself in their passion. Cer'ango, she knew, could be gentle and restrained, but even then she had learned the best way to capture his lips and tongue, to make them fit together perfectly.

He held her tight to his chest, her legs wrapped around his waist and his arousal pressing against hers. She moaned as she stopped kissing him and nuzzled against his shoulder. It had been too long since she had been with him and she found she was impatient to have him again. Maybe it was the same for him, because he was rocking his hips up to her. There were a million ways they could pleasure each other, but right now, there was only one thing to be done.

The elf braced herself on his shoulders as she lifted herself up, and then slowly sank back down onto him, his hands on her waist, guiding and steadying. He closed his eyes and sighed a happy and contented sigh as she surrounded him with her wet heat. The sensation of being filled was not lost on her either and as she bottomed out, she took a moment to lean on his shoulder, trying to calm her breathing somewhat. When she was ready, she shifted her weight so she could rock herself up and down on him.

She started slow, rotating her hips a bit with each down stroke, until the need took her and she began to ride him faster. Cer'ango leaned back on one hand, the other stroking her breast, matched her tempo, thrusting up to meet her. Before she knew it, she felt her stomach tightening and the wave of ecstasy rising within her. She whimpered and rocked her hips faster, desperate for release. Cer'ango sat up to hold her against him and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding on for dear life. His long tongue invaded her mouth and she sucked on it greedily. He chuckled as she came up for air and nuzzled her face into his shoulder, mindlessly rutting as their sweat slicked bodies writhed together.

He licked up her neck and along her ear before whispering breathlessly, "My wild lil' elf, scream for me."

She chocked out a sob as he whispered more encouragement into her ear, his hot breath tickling her. Gripping his shoulders tighter, her nails digging into him, she rose up and sank down one last time screaming out is it finally took her.

"Fuuuuuck! Mistress! Its going to blow!"

_Two days later in Icecrown_

She looked up at the bomb she had just set, ready to admonish the stupid imp for being so panicky. Of course it was going to explode, that was the point. But when she looked she saw the fuse was burning much faster than it was supposed to. Stupid orcs, she thought, she came down here to help them and they didn't think to give her enough time to get away. Maybe that was the idea, in which case, she made a quick mental note to incinerate them next chance she got. If she ever got one. Her options seemed to be limited to either being blown up or falling into Nether knew what.

She didn't have time to think, so she took a step back and hoped for the best as she fell into utter darkness...


	3. Chapter 3

_Two years earlier..._

"Control is what you must all learn," Kerwin said as screams pealed through the room, "without it you are slaves to the powers you call upon."

Lyeald pulled back some of her blasts to better control them, and found they were much more effective now that they weren't flying all over the place. Her imp, Krakul, laughed maniacally and jumped up and down as the gnome slave screamed in renewed agony. Dark energy swirled around her, pulsing through her mind and her hands and onto the dimunitive creature, who tore at his eyes and skin in agony. Finally he dropped to the floor, not dead yet, but weakened. Two of the Apothecaries laughed and picked him up, taking him back to their labs for more experiments.

She felt a little worn, but otherwise capable of taking on another target, assuming there was one. Looking around she saw that the few other students were killing the slaves too quickly, shadow and fire dancing chaotically around them. One of the Forsaken women was suddenly consumed by her own fires and screamed as it ate at her dead flesh. Without thinking, Lyeald unleashed a flash of arcane energy, drinking up the other student's mana and knocking the spell out.

Another student collapsed, his magic fizzling out, and the others were still having problems keeping the magic under control. Kerwin watched it all, not moving, barely speaking, letting his students destroy themselves if need be. He called it thinning out the herd, and made no bones about the potentially fatal consequences of failing his lessons. These lessons were harsh, draining and only a few made it through, but those who did were considered the highest of warlocks, and so many a student was honored just to be considered. The Apothecaries came back with more slaves, and Lyeald went back to work.

Several hours later, Kerwin called the lesson to a halt. Only Lyeald and two others were still standing, and only she didn't show exhaustion, though she felt it acutely. Kerwin's glowing, slightly detached eyes scanned the other students, a few of whom had stopped moving hours ago, and grunted dismissively before waving the survivors away. After only a week, there were now only three students left in the class, and two weren't looking like they could make it. Lyeald fought to hide her smugness as the other two stumbled out without dignity, off to find a place to get some precious sleep before the next lesson resumed in only a few hours.

"Lyeald," Kerwin croaked at her as she turned to leave. She turned carefully, making sure to make eye contact with him, something non Forsaken found difficult at times. "Walk with me," he said stalking past her on mishapen and rotted legs. She briefly turned back to the room. Apothecaries busied themselves sorting through the fallen students, seeing who was salvageable for their experiments. Suppressing a shudder, and turned and followed her teacher out into the Undercity.

"A smart woman like you can guess why I wish to speak with you," he said, "so I won't waste our time making you say it yourself. You have far excelled your fellow students in my lessons. Some are workable, and will make good low level operatives, but you, you have a good future in our craft."

He looked at her sideways to gage her reaction, she only allowed herself a short nod. He grunted and continued, "you have superior control, stamina and most importantly a strong will to do this work. So I wish to let you move on to the next stage of your development."

Lyeald couldn't help but smile a little, and judging by his amused cluck, he had noticed. They walked in silence for several minutes, giving her time to process her excitement. She had been sent from Silvermoon City, having far exceeded what her teachers there could show her. Kerwin's acceptance had been the highest honor, as he was very picky about who he taught. To now be told that she was top of his picks was almost too much to contain.

They were going down she realized, deeper than the Undercity itself, into its dungeons. Here the stentch of death was almost unbearable and she fought to remain calm and collected. They passed cells with rotting corpses, captured Alliance soldiers, Scourge experiments and things she could not name or describe. Finally they came to a small cell where a human lay on the floor, groaning in painful ecstasy while a demon, a Succubus, sucked on his cock. Immediately, Lyeald saw that blood was dripping from the creatures mouth and when she raised her mouth it was clear that she had been gnawing on his member. Teeth marks were all over his body and in some parts deep gouges. The demon was slowly eating him alive she realized, and he was too lustful to notice or care.

The Succubus mounted him, and he cried out in pleasurable agony as she rode his raw cock hard and fast, her tail lashing this way and that. Lyeald felt sickened by the display, but also strangely aroused. She knew it was the effects of the demon, who was in her element, dishing out both pain and pleasure without reservation, though she had never felt the effects before. It was almost overpowering and she could feel the heat building between her legs already. If Kerwin was affected, he didn't show it. He instead said, "This is a warning Lyeald. This human was also learning the dark arts, and found a way to bind this beast to him. But her lust overpowered him. Now he is her slave, he will live indefinitely and she will feed off of him. This is the fate of many of our kind who do not have the will to resist the higher demons. "

He moved closely behind her and whispered into her ear, "You feel it don't you? Do not lie, I can tell you are aroused by this, even though your mind tells you not to be." His hands were on her arms, and his breath was cold against her ear. It sent shivers down her spine which should not have been erotic, but were nonetheless.

"Yes," she whispered and swallowed uncomfortably. She could feel his grin against her neck, and she let out a shuddering breath. Never before would she have thought of her teacher in a sexual way. Beyond the relationship of teacher and student which she held as sacred, he was undead, a rotting thing of unnatural life. She should be disgusted by his touch, but wasn't. His bony hands slid under her arms and cupped her breasts, massaging them gently. He pressed his body to hers and she knew in an instant that he wasn't completely dead. She was starting to feel afraid, but the more afraid she became the more aroused she became. The human in the cage was sobbing as the Succubus rode him, raking her nails across his chest, drawing more blood for her to lap up. Was he feeling the same thing? Fear? Did his fear also become desire?

"Ooooh yesssss," Kerwin hissed in her ear, "you are so ready, you would fuck anything right now." One of his hands went down between her legs and rubbed her through the thin cotton of her robes and pants. She let out a sob, halfway between fear and lust.

"Even a dead thing like me," he added and licked her neck, his cold tongue making her shudder. He then slowly bent her over, so that her head was near the bar of the cage. She didn't think as she reached out to grab the bars for support, nor did she struggle as he began to slowly lift her skirt. Her legs were spread without her even realizing it, she was ready to take him, even if a small voice told her to stop this. The human was panting as he neared his orgasm, and it was making her wet beyond belief, she couldn't think anymore, all she knew was the burning between her legs, and her teacher's cold hands starting to push her pants down past her butt. She swallowed in anticipation, forgetting all doubts.

Until she looked up. The Succubus was riding her former master with reckless abandon, crying with delight as he writhed in painful pleasure beneath her, but her eyes were locked in Lyeald's. The look of sheer hunger went straight to her stomach and formed a cold gnawing pit there. She understood in an instant that the Succubus was also waiting in anticipation for Kerwin to fuck his student. She was going to feed off the unleashed lust, just as she was feeding off the human now. She was going to end up weak and helpless just like him, always desiring and never sated.

"No!" she cried and sprung up straight, pressing her back to the wall. Her heart was pounding and her stomach was a bottomless pit of fear, but she was able to think clearly again. She hurridly pulled her pants back up, and looked over to her teacher who had almost penetrated her.

"Excellent," he said smiling with satisfaction, "you were able to resist her powers."

A test Lyeald thought, of course. She could hear the continued groans of the human as he reached his tortured climax, mingling with the otherworldly screams of the Succubus. She shuddered, not bothering to try to cover it up. She had been so close to becoming like him.

"I would be surprised if you weren't disturbed," Kerwin said, heading back up the stairs they came down, "it is important for you to realize their power, do not become complacent with these creatures, they are always trying to find a way to gain control."

Lyeald nodded and started up after him, but paused before asking, "Master, would you have taken me if I had not resisted?"

He turned and cast his cold dead eyes on her.

"No mercy for the week Lyeald, no mercy."

_Now..._

"Have mercy!" the girl cried as she was ripped by agony in her very soul. Lyeald looked at her without emotion. There was no pity in her heart, especially for the likes of these. The girl had made her choice to follow Arthas, now she was paying. The girl let out a final cry as she collapsed into the snow. The fel-hound continued to gnaw on her side as she twitched her last. The essence of her life shot back to Lyeald, who closed her eyes as she greeted the stolen life force. A crystal materialized in her hand, and Lyeald stowed it away before whistling for her pet to come back. She walked over to the body, steaming in the snow, and pulled off the hood. Luckily the cultist's robes were similar enough to her own that she could pass through without too much notice. Except she wouldn't be able to bring her pet. Sighing, she dismissed back to the nether, and set off towards the Cathedral.


	4. Chapter 4

_4 days earlier..._

Pain...darkness...wet?

Lyeald's eyes snapped open and she realized she was under water. Pushing down the initial panic, she quickly cast a spell to keep her breathing under water and kicked instinctively up. As luck would have it, she was right side up and near the surface of the pool which she had mysteriously woken up in.

She was in a chamber, she couldn't tell how large as the light wasn't all that bright in here. Light from where? She couldn't see a source, must be from above. She looked up and saw a long shaft going to impossible heights and she remembered the bomb, falling back and blacking out. How had she survived? Hitting the water from that height would have surely killed her, even if it was deep.

Looking down, she was amazed at how shallow it was. Just a small pool.

It was then that she saw something glowing under the water, only a couple of feet below her. She ducked her head back under to get a better look at it, but was still perplexed. It looked like an organ, a piece of flesh, but with a sickening glow to it. She dove a little further and quickly decided it was a heart, an organ which she had used for summoning in the past.

Without thinking, she reached out to touch it, but was hit with a shock of pain when she did. It was like nothing she felt before and her first thought was "You shouldn't have done that, now he'll know."

She realized that the thought wasn't her own, there was someone else here. She kicked back up to the surface and looked around the chamber. She peered into the darkness and realized for the first time that there were figures, shambling around a ways off. They didn't seem interested in her, but they sent a cold feeling down to the pit of her stomach. There was something not right about them, which in Icecrown was saying something.

"Over here," the thought came again and she spun around and saw there was a young boy standing on the edge of the pool. He was a human, dressed in simple clothes, seemingly unfazed by anything around him, but was looking at her expectantly. She came up out of the pool and quickly realized that he was a ghost, his form giving a way a sense of translucence. Well that was at least something she could expect in Icecrown, the dead were everywhere, why not a child ghost.

"I saw him throw that in," he said, "now he'll know you've seen it, you need to hide yourself."

Lyeald swallowed, she didn't have to think hard about who he was talking about. She knew that it was a heart, of course he would have gotten rid of it. Although undead wasn't her forte, she had spent enough time with the Forsaken to know that the heart was often the first thing to go. Cold fear gripped her, it was one thing to be an agent contributing towards the Lich King's fall, it was another thing entirely for him to have an eye on your.

"Kill the faceless ones," he said pointing to the shambling figures in the dark, "bring me their blood, and I can hide you and send you back to the surface."

She looked over to them, and sighed as she began the summoning ritual for a demon to help her.

_18 months earlier_

The demon summoning ritual completed, and her fel hound emerged from in a haze of unholy smoke. It growled at her but otherwise showed complete loyalty. She smiled at it, knowing that while it may hate the idea of being in servitude to her, it would at least enjoy their job, which she found was the best way to get the easiest cooperation from these creatures. The trolls in Raventusk Village stood back, some looking at her with suspicion, others in awe. Trolls weren't interested in demon summoning, but had enough of their own dark magic to not be especially judgmental, most of the time. She turned to the one who had offered her the job, and confirmed that she would take it.

"Hang on just a second mon," a voice said behind her. She turned and saw a large troll standing behind her smirking. He wore heavy armor, and a vicious looking sword strapped to his back. "Are we sure dis lil lady can handle, de Vilebranch are a mean bunch, and Jin'thalor be no place for such a pretty lil elf."

She bristled. Blood elves weren't fully accepted by the Horde rank and file yet, because they were deemed too fragile and haughty to really get down and dirty with the rest of them. She was being tested she knew, and would have to prove herself to this arrogant troll, something which she found utterly boring and annoying.

"I'm not worried," she said, turning her head up defiantly, "what's a few trolls with delusions of grandeur?"

He laughed good naturedly at that and said, "Dey be crazy yah, but dey also be dangerous. I think I go wit you to make sure they don't mess ya up too much."

"I can take care of myself," she said sharply.

"Alight," he said with a sharp tooth smile, "but truth be told I'd like to get on killing dem too. So I be goin wit you all the same."

She sighed in frustration and began summoning her steed which appeared beneath her amongst flame and shadow.

"Well hurry up if you insist, I can't wait around for you."

"Cer'ango," he said summoning his own mount, "my name be Cer'ango."


	5. Chapter 5

"Defilers! Die!"

The Troll Priestess screeched summoning her holy energy to blast them with. Lyeald's fel hunter, Rathe, bit into her, sending his own dark energy into her. She stumbled on the spell, losing it completely. Cer'Ango swung his sword at the last of her body guards, who was now on his knees. The others all lay strewn about the alter, looking like various states of burnt, hacked or bitten. Shadow surrounded Lyeald and refocused around her hands as she prepared to finish the priestess off. The troll had pushed Rathe away with her staff and was summoning her own spell, but Lyeald just smiled. Her spells had weakened her, she was barely standing up now, the priestess wouldn't have enough to hurt her now.

The shadows had coalesced into a ball in her hands and she focused it on the troll. It hit home, and knocked her down quickly. Lyeald could see that she was still breathing hard, but it was over. She went over to look down on the troll, who was staring into the sky with a horrified expression. Then she saw Lyeald and her eyes narrowed in rage. She lifted up a hand and spit something that the Warlock couldn't quite grasp, before expiring completely.

"I tink she just cursed ya," Cer'ango said, suddenly at her back. She jumped a little but managed to stop herself in time.

She merely raised an eyebrow at him and then went to get the Priestess' necklace, proof she was dead and summoned her steed. Cer'Ango shrugged at her business like attitude and summoned his raptor to follow her out. As they rode down the steppes of the city, they passed the carnage they had caused on their way up. Fires were burning freely, bodies lay all over, a few survivors were hiding, running, anything but engaging with them. Jin'Thalor was a dead city, it would never be able to recover.

They got back to Raventusk village some time after the sun had set. There was no moon that night, but the trolls had good enough eyesight to see it was them. They had seen the fires, rising up above the city that sat above them, and so knew when they returned that they had been successful. The night watchmen cheered and offered them drinks, something Lyeald turned down, but Cer'Ango was more than happy to enjoy. When Lyeald turned in, she saw that he was already getting drunk and telling over exaggerated stories about the battle.

The next morning she was up with the sun. The village was already active, which is something she was no longer surprised about. Her short time on the road had taught her that Trolls could drink themselves into a coma, but still be up in time for breakfast. She had her stuff all packed and was on her way to the dock to see the flight master, when she heard a cough behind her. She turned and saw that Cer'Ango was there, looking pretty good for someone she supposed had only stopped drinking an hour earlier.

"And just where doya tink you're goin my girl?"

"The Plaguelands," she said matter of factly, "I am done here, and I hear there is work up there."

"Der are other places to go, ya know, de Plaguelands be depressing."

She kept her expression level and calm, but now that he mentioned it, she was starting to have doubts about it. Perhaps it was too soon to go back there she thought. Rage and vengeance had burned in her heart, and she had managed to push it to the side so that she could stay focused on improving herself so that she could one day eradicate the undead, but there was something else stirring in her. She wasn't sure what, but she wasn't sure she could ignore it. It was telling her to go somewhere else.

"Alright then," she said, "where would you suggest?"

He grinned at her, picked up his pack, which she hadn't noticed before, and started down the dock.

"I be tinkin about another world. My people, dey be settlin in a place in Outland. Zangermarsh."

And so she went with him to Zangermarsh in Outland. At first she didn't like it, but it quickly grew on her. An alien world, full of strange creatures, new herbs for her to work with and demons to study and fight. There was always work to do, even after the fall of the Black Temple and Kael'Thalas' defeat on Sunstrider Isle, there were still demons to be taken care of, orgres causing problems and of course, the on going hostility between the Horde and the Alliance.

Cer'Ango proved to be a good companion, something she had done without for the last several years. Really since the fall of Silvermoon City to the Scourge. He was easy to work with, was respectful of her space and didn't seem to be out to make a friend or lover out of her. They had a nice, easy going relationship, which mostly involved doing a job, turning it in for reward, moving on. He certainly enjoyed his downtime more than she did, and he made the most of it, which she didn't mind, so long as he was ready to go in the morning, lest he be left behind.

After a few months of working together, she had warmed up to him though. He would occasionally talk to her about something other than business, tell a joke, and occasionally, she would find herself smiling at him. In fact she began to notice a lot of things. The way he moved, the deep rumble of his laugh, the way he would go from perfectly still and disciplined in battle, to raucously drunk, all of these were starting to grab her attention more and more. She found she got a thrill if he touched her, even by accident. She was beginning to love the way he said her name, how he let it roll off his tongue.

Then the dreams started. At first she only dreamed of him in passing, which didn't bother her, he was with her all the time these days. But then they became more intense and erotic. Dreams where he roughly took her from behind, or gently made love to her from above, they varied wildly. She would wake up in a cold sweat and have to dump cold water on her head.

These were things she had not thought of in years, she had had urges yes, but she learned to keep them down. Even before the Succubus, she had forsworn lusty pursuits. And that's all this was, lust. She began to throw herself even harder into her work, sometimes going on trips without him when he had his fill. She slept and ate sparingly, nothing was to distract her from her work, because that was what would distract her from her lustful imagination.

It was to no avail. When she saw him, it fired up in her again, more powerful than before. Worse, she was making herself sick and vulnerable with her work, something he was noticing, and he expressed concern about it. Moreso, he showed affection with this concern, which signaled to her that he also felt attracted to her. Eventually she decided, she had to go. She had to separate herself from him, lest she give in to her desire and lose focus on her goals. However, she couldn't simply leave without an explanation she felt. He had been far too good a companion for that. Then, as if by fate, a letter came from the Scryors in Shatthrath, asking her to come and do some work for them. An old teacher had recommended her it seemed, and she knew that this was the best way possible.

"Shattrath?" he said when she told him. They were in his room, and he had been preparing to go out and drink when she had come in.

"Yes, the Scryor's Tier. They've asked me to come and do some work for them." She said this all matter of factly, in her usual composed self, but inside she was struggling with herself. Part of her did not want to go, wanted to stay with him, love him and forget about everything else. But she ignored it. She had her work, and it had been the driving force of her life for the last few years, she wasn't about to throw all the sacrifices she had made over lust for a troll.

"And I suppose," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "dis be an invitation for one?"

"Yes," she said, a little softer than she had meant to.

"Ah, well I spose it was only a mattah of time before ya got bored and moved on, I just hate to see a good partnership end."

He stood up right in front of her, looking down with his piercing eyes. She stared right back into them, as she usually did, but this time she found it took a tremendous effort.

"Its been an honor," she said quietly and casting her eyes down, "I've enjoyed working with you."

"It been a real pleasure for me too," he said softly, "but it sound like yer leaven already?"

"Tonight," she answered, looking up, "I am flying to Shattrath tonight. I just..." she couldn't finish, she didn't know how.

"I see," he said with a resigned sigh. He then grabbed her and kissed her.

It took her completely by surprise and she had no time to react or even to push away. He held her with his strong arms, pressed against his body. After the initial shock she found herself giving into it completely. It had been so long since she had been kissed, and never like this before. She opened her mouth to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into her.

They parted, their lips still inches apart, breathing heavily. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest, almost as loud as her own. He traced small kisses on her cheek and down to her ear which he licked gently. She sighed and closed her eyes, forgetting all of her worries and fears. It didn't matter right now.

"I've wanted to try dat for awhile, but I figure I'd get fed to yah dog."

She laughed, the fact was he would've been ashes before Rathe had a chance.

"Too bad ya're leaving tonight, ain't it?" he said, mischieviously.

"Oh, I don't think I have to go for a couple of hours," he picked her up and placed her on the bed, "I mean, its not like Shattrath," she stopped when he kissed her. He began undoing her robes, sliding them down her shoulders. Then he took off his shirt, "I mean its not like Shat is...far or..." he undid his trousers and stood there, completely naked before her.

"I don't have to leave before dawn."

_Five days ago..._

"I don't have to leave before dawn," he said, caressing her ear. He had received a letter, about an hour after they had gone up to her room, that he was needed back in Zul'Drak, something about a group of trolls having kidnapped civilians. Lyeald tried to not let her disappointment show. Their last time had been so brief, and now again, they only had the night together.

"So let's make the most of it," he said, pulling her into a kiss.

Her hand gently made its way down to his member, tickling it a bit before gripping it in her hand. Cer moaned quietly as she began pumping it, wanting to get him hard again, which took no time at all. She rolled onto him, letting their chests rub together, while she teased the head of his cock with her pussy. He gripped her hips and grinned at her in anticipation before lowering her down.

She took him in slowly, savoring each moment and inch that disappeared into her until she fully surrounded him. They stayed there for several moments, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the sensation of him inside of her. Then she began rocking, gently at first, letting her hips slowly rise and fall, slowly caressing his cock with her pussy. He let out a shuddering breath and moved his hips up to meet her, matching her rhythm.

Each time she rose and descended, she went a little faster. He matched her, but his eyes looking straight into her told her that he wanted her to go even faster. It was only a matter of time before his frenzy would kick in and he would start thrusting into her fast and hard.

She began to pick up the pace, feeling her own need rising within her. His own thrusts were becoming more frantic and needy. His hands roamed her body, cupping her breasts, caressing her cheeks and squeezing her butt. It sent little tremors through her already sensitive body and she could feel herself getting close.

Cer'Ango squeezed his eyes shut and was now thrusting out of control. She felt the first ejaculation inside of her and it pushed her over the edge. She cried out his name as her whole body shook with the waves of her orgasm. Lyeald rested her head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arms around her, stroking her hair. She felt sleepy, and could hear his breath slowing down. She wanted to fight sleep, to make love to him until dawn, but the feeling of contentment overwhelmed her and she fell asleep against his chest.


	6. Chapter 6

The dawn's light was just beginning to trickle through her window when she awoke. Cer was still with her, but was awake and watchful, as if preparing himself to get out of the furs and leave her. He smiled when she opened an eye and looked up at him.

"I didun know whetter to wake ya or not."

"Of course," she said, draping an arm over his chest, "I would've been hurt if I missed you."

"Yah, but ya looked so peaceful der," he answered, stroking her hair. He sighed after another moment and then heaved himself off the furs and began collecting his armor.

"I spose," he said, futzing with his belt buckle, "it'd be pointless to ask ya ta stay put till I get back."

She smiled, "Yes, I will probably be in Icecrown."

"Yah need anoder hobby Lyeald," he said grinning.

"Well I've tried but he keeps wandering off. To kill things no less. Rather rich of you to comment on it."

"Dat's not what I meant," he said quietly, putting on his gloves and picking up his sword. He then looked at her in all seriously, "dis obsession you have, wit de Scourge. It be worryin me."

She raised an eyebrow at him, "Oh?"

He looked uncomfortable, as if he was choosing his words carefully. "Is just...I do wat I do for de money, and for fun. You do it because of revenge. I worry dat you will lose yourself in dat. Dat you will do something ya shouldn't, and it will get ya killed, or worse."

She wanted to be angry at this, but looking into his eyes and seeing the real care there, she just couldn't. In fact she felt moved by it. She knelt up in the bed and wrapped her arms around his neck. He pulled her into the hug and seemed to be holding onto her as if she could easily slip away from him.

"Come to Zul'drak wit me," he whispered, "or Outland, just not back to dat place."

She almost said yes. It was so tempting to get away while she could, to be happy and cared for. But then she remembered her city, and what the Scourge did to it, and she knew she couldn't. Running away would just prolongue the inevitable. The Scourge had to be stopped here, and if she could help, she would.

She sank back down onto the furs and shook her head. He nodded in understanding and kissed her on the forehead.

"Den I'll be coming up dere soon as I can, okies?"

Lyeald nodded and smiled, "Be careful."

"Jah. You too."

A few hours later, she sat in the bar, quietly drinking. A couple of times she was propositioned, but she turned it down politely and went back to her thoughts. Was this why she had been going soft? Because of him? Because he had managed to break her icy veneer all those months ago? She began thinking for the first time in years, what she would do with her life if and when the Lich King was destroyed, and the Scourge no longer posed a threat. There would always be room for traveling and adventure she supposed. And with another person. Thoughts drifted into the long term of being with Cer for more than just a passionate night. It was a pleasant day dream that she lost herself in quickly.

"Excuse me?"

She snapped out of it and looked at the young man who was standing in front of her. He was a page, she could tell by his colors and was holding a letter.

"I have a message for you," he said, "its from-"

"No, I know exactly who that is from."

_Two Days Ago_

"Koltira Deathweave, what brings you out here?"

Tirion Fordring. The Fordring, with the Ashbringer. The legend himself. He was nodding at her with a familiar smile, but still eyeing her companion, the Blood Elf, with an air of uncertainty. It wasn't that he didn't like or trust the Death Knight, it was that he knew whatever the reason for his visit, it could not have been good.

"Lyeald has discovered something that should interest you," Koltira answered, and waved for her to speak. And so, against the freezing wind that ripped across the Crusader Pinnacle, she recounted what had happened to her in the pit, about the heart, the boy and what he had told her. Other people watched, curious, but far too respectful of Fordring to try and listen in.

He listened to her with great care, making barely a reaction until she had finished her tale.

"That is most interesting," he said when she had finished and looked deep in thought.

"There's more," Koltira said, "we spent the last couple of days watching the Cult of the Damned, they've been moving around very quickly, as if something came up recently. If this...boy or whatever he was is to be believed, then Arthas knows his heart has been discovered. We believe that he has arranged for it to be taken to the Cathedral to be destroyed, lest it be used against him. Something is going to happen there, something big, in two days."

"I'm surprised you are telling me about this. I would think the Ebon Blade would love a chance like this."

Koltira sneered, "yes, but I cannot trust all my people with this information yet. Its too valuable. The Alliance and Horde factions are too busy snarling at each other to care. The Argent Crusade I feel are the only ones who can carry this task out with the best judgment and care."

"Thank you for your faith," Tirion said, kindly, even though it was lost on someone like Koltira. He turned to Lyeald then and said, "We have worked together before, and you have never let me down. Therefore I want you to come with us on this task. I have a plan, and will get started on my end right away. Are you willing to lend your aid?"

"Yes," she said without a second's hesitation. This could, after all, be it. This could be the thing that brings Arthas down, and she could not miss her change to help.

"Good," he answered, "be at the Cathedral in two days."


	7. Chapter 7

_Now..._

Lyeald kept her head bowed as she climbed the steps of the Cathedral, avoiding the cultists as subtly as she could. It wasn't all that hard. Most of them were rushing around, trying to stay out of the cold as much as possible, and getting ready for the big event. They had no time to even spare her a second look. Her feet took her to the right of the Cathedral, where cultists supposed to be working security were warming their hands by a few large fires. She walked purposefully to one in particular, where four people were standing, rubbing their hands. Casually, she stood next to one and held out her hands towards the fire.

"I knew you wouldn't let me down Lyeald," the man next to her said, sparing her a smile.

She smiled back, but said nothing. She was excited at what was about to happen, but also terrified. They could all be killed if this went wrong, heck if it went right. She didn't even know what was going to happen if they did succeed, or what success even meant. She had assumed Tirion meant to try to take the heart and use it against Arthas, maybe to try to redeem him enough to weaken the Lich King and strike him down, but the fact was she didn't know. She trusted Fordring though, and that was all she could count on now.

A toll was sounded, and cultists began moving into the Cathedral. Tirion nodded to her and the three others and they made their way in. He led them to the front right side, and told them to kneel down like the other cultists. She knelt and bowed her head, but she couldn't keep herself from looking around as unobtrusively as possible.

The Cathedral was quickly filled with the cultists, and there was an air of barely contained excitement, which she guessed was to their advantage, since it didn't make their tension as obvious. Still, she was finding it hard to keep still. Her heart was pounding against her ribs as she began to contemplate what was going to happen. She could die. Right here and now. She thought of Cer'Ango, about his concern over her need for revenge. Perhaps he had been right, it didn't seem to matter right now, but she did feel a twinge of regret.

"It's here," Tirion whispered, shaking her out of her contemplation. She looked up and indeed, four cultists were bringing in a cask which almost certainly had the heart. They brought it up to the front and set it down in front of the priest. Bathed in an eerie blue light, the heart rose from it. Lyeald tensed and looked to Tirion, thinking that this was the moment they had to act, but he was suddenly deathly pale.

"Something is wrong," he whispered and he turned to her, his look sending chills right down to her stomach.

"Arthas is here."

_Four years ago_

"Arthas is here!"

The streets of Silvermoon City were chaos. People were running all over, soldiers were trying to get people to safety, or were rushing to the front gate to bolster the defenses against the encroaching army. Smoke, fire and noise were everywhere, and it was almost impossible to see where anyone was going. Lyeald was shoved and pushed about as she tried to get through the masses back to her parent's house. She couldn't afford to think about the army of undead, led by the renegade Prince Arthas, that were now approaching the gates, of her patients back at the temple, or even of the softness on the ground as people were being trampled. She had to get home, she had to get her family out.

She almost stumbled but luckily regained her footing. If she fell, she was dead. She didn't dare look down, because she knew that if she saw the people beneath her feet, she would be compelled to help them, and then she would also be dead. All she could do was remained focused on her task. To get to her parent's house, to make sure they got out of the city before-

KABOOM!

The explosion blasted from the main gate to the city and the Elder Walk. People next to her were toppled over by the explosion and almost took her with them, but she was able to dodge out of the way and keep moving. The panic was becoming even more intense as people ran every which way, not sure what way led to safety.

She turned her head for just a second and saw the Abominations had broken through the gate and were trampling over the guard there defending it. Other undead were swarming in behind them, and behind all of them, she caught a brief glimpse of Arthas. The Prince had already betrayed his own people, murdered his father and was now going to eradicate Lorderan's neighbor to the north. She didn't pause to look any more as she was swept onward by the now stampeding crowd in the wrong direction.

"No!" she cried, trying to fight the crowd, but it was no use, they were moving en masse, not caring where they were going, just to get away from the horrors that were now invading their beautiful city. As they entered Farstrider Square she was pushed up against a wall, and the crowd kept expanding as more and more people came in from every direction trying to get out and finding there was no where to go. The wall was short, but she couldn't get turned around to climb it, and felt the air being pushed out of her.

Stars were forming before her eyes when she felt herself yanked up suddenly. Then she was on the wall, looking down at the crowd which was getting more and more packed. She looked around and saw that the wall was lined with Rangers who were running this way and that, the one who had rescued her pulled her into a quick hug.

"Keron!"

"Lyeald what are you doing here?" he shouted above the din.

"I left Rakom with my parents, I have to get there to get him out!"

Keron tried to hide his panic, but she could see it, it was the same panic she felt for their young son, now on the other side of the city. Her husband shook his head quickly and said, "They will get out, you should have left with the temple."

KA-KRACK!

They both looked to the east and saw a band of darkness was tearing its way through the center of the city. Explosion followed explosion as it moved quickly northward through the city. More importantly, Lyeald realized that is was between her and her son. She cried out and tried to run, but Keron's strong arms held her back and he tried to reason with her above the din. But there was no reason. Not anymore.

"Open the Western and Northern gates! Get these people out of the city!"

The voice was clear and echoed above the noise of chaos and panic. Lyeald looked up and saw that Sylvanus Windrunner had just landed on the platform behind them, several other Dragonhawks were there and were already being manned by Rangers. Suddenly the crowd began streaming out of the square, guided by some of the younger rangers and soldiers.

"Rangers! With me! We have to defend the Sunwell!"

Keron turned back to her and she understood what was in his eyes. She shook her head and begged him to stay with her, to escape the city together.

"I can't, if they get to the Sunwell we are lost." He kissed her and then let her go to man his Dragonhawk.

"I will be back, give my love to our son."

She stared at him speechless as he took off into the sky and watched him go north. She couldn't hear the explosions or the screaming anymore, everything had become quiet.

"Madam!" a young voice shook her out of her numbness and she saw one of the Rangers had taken her arm and was leading her towards the gate out west. She had to be dragged for only a moment before she came back to herself and began to run on her own. The bulk of the crowd was ahead of her and so she was able to move more freely for the moment.

Suddenly her companion grabbed her arm and stopped dead in his tracks, a look of horror on his face. A second later she noticed what it was that startled him, as an abomination stepped out in front of the crowd ahead and began ripping through them. A few tried to defend themselves with their magic, but were easily tossed aside like flies. The few people like her who had not been with the main crowd began running in every direction, only to find themselves trapped by more undead.

The ranger pulled her towards a small building and they quickly scrambled inside and barricaded the door. He led her down to the basement, barricaded that door and they both stood in the darkness panting, as the cries of their people screamed on above. She allowed a small light to form in her hand, not wanting to be in the darkness. Her companion was an ashen faced youth, who although showed excellent clearheadedness above, now looked on the verge of panic. They were all terrified she realized, but she she would do her best to keep him calm.

"I-it'll be alright," she said, fighting to keep her voice steady, but couldn't think of a good follow up. How was this going to be alright? They were being overrun, slaughtered. If Sylvanus couldn't protect the Sunwell, what then? Would Arthas gain even more power? Would they all become undead?

The thought left a cold sick feeling in her stomach and she chose not to pursue it. Sylvanus would hold them off, the alliance would make it through to help them. The Light would protect them. She began murmuring a prayer and held the youth's hand to pass some of that comfort on to him. It seemed to be working, and the noises from above were starting to fade. They must be moving on she thought, they should now leave the city before-

KRRAAAAAAAAAKOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The sound was like nothing she had heard before and it ripped through her like a razor. She felt as if her very being was torn asunder by it. She clutched her ears and screamed soundlessly against it before darkness took her.


	8. Chapter 8

Pain greeted her when she regained consciousness. Followed by the sounds of crying. She opened her eyes and saw a floor, some stairs and remembered where she was. Next was the feeling of utter emptiness. It was overwhelming and she let out a sob as she curled up into a fetal position. She was faintly aware that her young companion was in a similar state nearby.

What had happened? This wasn't just shock, something was definitely wrong. She took several deep breaths to regain some control over herself and then stood up shakily. The Ranger looked up at her, tears staining his young face.

"Do you feel it too?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," she nodded, "I feel it too."

She held out a hand to him which he took after a moment's hesitation. Quietly, they made their way up the stairs to the first level of the house they were in. It was eerily quiet. Did undead make noise? Would the streets be empty? Or like Stratholme? Crawling with undead. Carefully, she opened the door to the basement and looked outside. Not a soul was near, so she crept out into the main room of the house to look at the window.

The city was completely destroyed. Bodies were scattered all over. But there was no undead to be seen.

They made their way outside and through the streets, seeing not a soul, living or otherwise. Surely, she thought, someone made it out. She began heading towards the gates to the north to see if she could find anyone, her companion following her numbly. There were a few survivors here who looked to be in a similar state of bewilderment and despair. Several were in a group fussing over what looked like a soldier. Her heart leaped at the thought that it may be her husband and she rushed over. One of the others looked up and saw her come over.

"A priestess is here! Perhaps he can be saved!"

She came over to the wounded elf and her heart sank. He had the regalia of a Ranger, but his hair was darker and shorter than Keron's. He looked horribly burnt and had clearly been in the water. Some people babbling around her said they found him bobbing by in a half sunk boat and they had pulled him out. She closed her eyes and held her hands over him, moving quickly into the trance to channel the Light and heal him of his wounds.

Nothing happened.

She opened her eyes and looked at her hands confused. Others were also looking at her curiously. Lyeald took several deep breaths and tried again. Still nothing. Panic began to rise in her, and she fought to keep it down, but the crowd around her was murmuring around her. She looked around and saw several of them were trying to summon their own magics. A cry rose out as one elf discovered she could not tap the Arcane anymore.

Lyeald turned her attention back to the soldier, frantically trying to recall an unmagical method to save him, but knew it was hopeless. He seemed to understand too and just stared up at the sky before speaking.

"Sunwell...Arthas used it to raise a lich," he coughed up blood and then continued, "its...gone...Sylvanus and rangers...gone too... " he gave another haggard cough before closing his eyes and dying.

The elves all started talking in panicked tones. What are we going to do? Where are the Scourge now? Our city is gone, our people have been eradicated, are we all that's left? How can we rebuild without our magic?

Lyeald knelt next to the dead soldier silently, staring out ahead. Then suddenly she was running, her feet pounding on beneath her until she reached the shore and then she turned sharply and kept on running. She didn't know where she was going or why, she just ran, kicking up sand behind her, startling the Murloc villages on the edge of the water, and just kept on going until finally her skirt tripped her up and she planted face first into the beach.

For several minutes she lay there, shaking with uncontrollable sobs. She rolled onto her back and looked up at the darkening sky as it all came crashing down around her. Keron was dead, her city destroyed, and while there was still a slim chance her parents and son had escaped, she knew deep down that they had been killed too. And now even the light had deserted her. She had been left alive as a cruel gesture while everyone she had ever loved had been ripped from her.

She sat up and absently began brushing sand off her when she looked down at her robes. The emblem of the light had been dirtied up, but was otherwise still intact. She stared at it for a long time, thinking of the comfort it had given her in the past, even today when she was in the basement before-

A sudden rage gripped her and she began tearing at it. With a wild howl she managed to rip it from her robes and tore at it like a mad beast, shrieking and crying, cursing it with all of her being. Darkness gathered round her and she suddenly became aware of it, the energy and like a hungry child tapped it. She remembered learning spells of the shadow when she was still training to be a priestess, and how use of it was often frowned upon. It was a power of destruction and chaos, not order and healing. She summoned it around her, feeling the energy fill her up and in a final scream of unleashed rage released it all around her. It felt incredible, the rush of power that flowed through her, nothing the Light had ever given her had felt anything like it. She threw herself into it completely and rode it out like an orgasm of fury and destruction.

When she came down, she felt drained, but satisfied like never before. She opened her eyes and saw that the grass around her had been burnt away, along with several insects. Others were running from her in terror. As she looked out at the small amount of destruction she had wrought, and icy calm took her and she stood up, no longer shaking, no longer full of doubt and emptiness. The Light had abandoned her, so she had no need of it anymore. She would use the Shadow and make it serve her needs. Rage still boiled inside of her and she would use it to reap destruction on the Scourge, the Legion and most importantly, on Arthas.

_Now..._

Arthas, the Lich King, one and the same, strode into the Cathedral. The cultists all bowed their heads in reverence to him, but Lyeald was too frozen to move. Her rage battled with her utter terror at being this close to the creature who had destroyed her city, yet wielded unbelievable power. He made his way straight to where his heart was glowing a sickly green and stopped just short of it. Then it seemed he noticed something. She felt Tirion tense next to her and she suddenly realized that they had been sensed.

"Uninvited guests! Did you think you'd go unnoticed inside my dominion?" The Lich King was looking straight at them, and Lyeald felt all the warmth drain out of her completely. She swallowed hard and then saw that Fordring had stood up and removed his disguise. He was utterly without fear she thought, and could not help but admire it. She found herself standing up too, and her fear went to the back fo her mind. She felt it, but could face it.

"I must confess... you were not altogether unexpected. I hope you find your final resting place... to your liking," he continued.

"You sound a little too confident. Especially considering the way our last encounter ended," Fordring answered, his voice ringing clearly through the Cathedral.

The Lich King sneered, "Last time we met, you had the advantage of fighting on holy ground. You'll find that our situation has been... reversed."

"That might be, but I don't need to stand on holy ground to run that disembodied heart of yours through with the Ashbringer."

"I call your bluff," Arthas answered with a sinister laugh, "You're a paladin after all. Your obsession with redemption goes beyond the inane. You surely wouldn't destroy humanity's only chance to redeem its most wayward son. You'd sooner die!"

Tirion looked thoughtful, perhaps even somewhat regretful as he looked at the former Prince.

"The heart... the last remaining vestige of your humanity. I had to stop it from being destroyed. I had to see for myself. And at last I'm sure," He raised the Ashbringer, "only shadows from the past remain. There's nothing left to redeem!"

Before Lyeald could tell what was happening, he had leapt forward and brought his sword down on the heart. It shattered into a million pieces under the power of the holy weapon and was followed by a flash of light. When her vision cleared she saw that Tirion was lying on the ground and not moving. The Lich King had been thrown back and was on his knees.

"You...you will pay for that old man! Destroy them now!"

Lyeald and the other crusaders rushed to Tirion's side but were soon surrounded by cultists. Lyeald instinctively raised her hands and prepared to summon a hail of fire to take as many of them out as possible. There were far too many of them for her and three crusaders to take out, and she knew that she was going to die. She actually felt alright with that, mostly. Finally she understood her fatigue of the last few weeks.

It had been the sheer hopelessness of their cause. They fought, died and were risen again to fight for the enemy. It didn't matter how many Scourge she killed, they could always bolster their armies with the dead of the people who fought them. It was because she had been unable to throw her heart away completely and she could now see where that led. Arthas had destroyed himself to become the Lich King, and she knew she could never go that far. But here they had accomplished something, she didn't know its full affect, but she knew, deep down that they had won an important victory.

There was a sudden commotion at the entrance of the Cathedral. They looked and saw Koltira and a group of Death Knights were rushing in. They tore through the cultists as they made their way to Tirion's group. Lyeald couldn't believe it, they might actually live through this. Cultists scattered away as the Death Knights reached them. Koltira threw up his hands and a gate appeared before him. Lyeald helped Tirion to his feet with one of the other Crusaders and began to make her way towards it. She then saw that the Lich King had risen but was being held off by the Death Knights. A moment of doubt seized her, she wanted to finish him off, they should, but somehow she knew it was not time. The fires of vengeance didn't burn as brightly as they had before.

The moment passed and she stepped through the portal.


	9. Chapter 9

Lyeald lay in the fields, her eyes closed as the sun warmed her body through her thin robes. Nearby she heard her son playing with the large cats that were kept here as pets while the rangers in training watched and laughed good naturedly. Keron stretched a lazy hand across her middle and leaned into her ear.

"The others are watching Rakom, we could find a place more...private."

She smiled and squinted her eyes open, seeing his face with light shining around it. With a chuckle he helped her to her feet and then nodded to the rangers who nodded in return with understanding. Rakom didn't notice his parents leave, he was too wrapped up in what he was doing.

They walked hand in hand to the beach, behind a large rock outcropping. Lyeald padded towards the water, letting her robe drop from her before diving into the cool water. She swam out a bit and turned around to see her husband running in after her. She ducked under the water and swam around, playfully trying to evade him, but he caught her by the foot and pulled her up to him.

Keron pressed his lips to hers, entangling her tongue with his own while his hands roamed down her back side. She moaned when she felt his erection against her stomach and wrapped her legs around his waist, teasing the tip of his cock with her own sex. He lifted her up higher and suckled on one of her breasts, holding her by the ass.

She let him for a few minutes, closing her eyes and humming with approval, but she had more immediate needs. She dropped back down and led him towards the shore where she lay on her back in the sand, the waves still lapping around her. He followed her down and kissed her deeply while positioning his cock at her entrance.

Lyeald gasped as he slowly pushed his way in, hitting her in the right spot, knowing exactly what she wanted and needed from him. Soon he was thrusting in and out of her, the friction between them causing a blissful heat to rise within her. She gripped the sand beneath her as she came, calling his name. He followed soon afterwards, spending himself within her before collapsing onto her. She wrapped her arms around him as he panted into her ear.

Several minutes later, they were returning to the field. Rakom looked up when he saw them coming and ran over to them.

"Mother! Father!" he cried as his father swept him up, "I hit the target! I didn't get a bullseye, but I hit it and without any help too."

His parents cooed at him with praise and support as the little family made their way back to the city. The sunset reflected off the towering crystal spires, cascading down into the streets in a dazzling light that rivaled any magic the elves could make for themselves. Thousands of high elves called this their home, and it seemed a paradise on earth.

As they walked back, she saw her parents, her sisters, friends, fellow priestesses. They all stopped and talked together about little things, about how much her son had grown, how beautiful the city was that day. By the time they arrived at their house, Rakom had fallen asleep on his father's shoulder. They carefully laid him to bed, handing him is favorite toy, which he clutched close to his chest as he peacefully slept.

Lyeald lay back in her bed, looking up through the large window at the head of her bed, as the stars shined on above her. Keron lazily rubbed her clit, and sucked on her breast, eliciting a purr from her. She rolled on top of him, slowly taking his cock into her and riding him nice and slow. He arched beneath her, telling her he loved her. She picked up her pace and closed her eyes, feeling the cool night breeze flutter against her sweat slick skin, the hands of her beloved gripping her hips, his voice calling her name and felt a profound sense of bliss.

It didn't last though, the cool breeze became a bitter cold that invaded her whole being and the gentle sounds of lovemaking slowly became harsh orders being barked nearby. She clung desperately if without hope to her dream, but in the end, knew it was useless. Reality was calling her back.

The sun was out, but instead of a warming glow, it was a harsh light reflected off the white snow. She was buried under several furs and was still too damned cold. Instead of being in a soft bed looking up at the stars, she was in a bunk at Crusader Pinnacle. For the first time in years, it came crashing down on her again, what she had lost when Arthas destroyed Silvermoon. Her family, her home and her innocence. Sadness and pain welled up in her from where she had buried it years before and soon she was sobbing, curled into a ball and letting it all wash over her.

It was like reopening a wound, but as painful as it was, she felt it was right. Long ago she had blocked her pain with anger and revenge, but now that that had cooled she was left with the pain. It would not be buried this time. Ever since the Cathedral, three days earlier, the dreams had been relentless, wearing her down until finally she had to let it wash over her. She missed them, her husband and son, her family, the life she once had.  
After a few minutes of free flowing tears she felt better. The pain was still there, but at least it was being addressed. She couldn't have that life back. It was gone. She could only make a new life for herself.

Wiping her eyes she got out of bed and got dressed, carefully doing up her hair and putting on her equipment. She had spent most of this time at the station, waiting to see if Tirion would recover. Everyone was tense and nervous that the great Paladin had finally outdone himself, and there was a general anxiety about what would happen should he now die. Lyeald wasn't particularly worried, and believed he would recover. So it was no surprise to her at all when she stepped out into the morning chill and saw him standing out on the overlook, as if nothing had happened.

He turned as she approached and nodded at her with respect. The other Crusaders, looking nervous after the health of their commander, drew back to let her stand next to him. She stared out into the vast whiteness of Icecrown, trying to decide what to ask him.

"I don't see this as a defeat," Tirion said, sensing what was on her mind "now I know, Arthas Menethil really is gone."

"I don't see how that helps," she said, "I thought you had hoped to redeem him."

"There was that hope," he said looking out into nothing, "I know it would be hard for you to understand, but there was a time when he was a good man, a true paladin. But the overwhelming odds against him shook his faith in the light, and the forces of darkness found him lost and desperate, easy prey."

Lyeald did not immediately answer but instead looked out doubtfully.

"I understand that that may sound a little too familiar to you," he said after a moment. She looked at him sharply about to retort, but found she couldn't. She sighed, feeling very tired suddenly. He was, after all, right. She had lost her faith in the light, had turned to darkness because it was a quicker way to power, to get what she wanted, what she needed.

"I do not think you will go that far though," he said after watching her for another moment, "I may not approve of what you do Lyeald, but I can tell you have your limits."

That was cheering at least, she thought. She may consort with demons, drain the souls of her enemies, but at least she wasn't about to tear out her own heart. Not yet anyways. Maybe not ever, she realized. She had seen Arthas and had not sold herself to her demons to destroy him. She did have limits it seemed.

"Will we ever win?" she asked in a small voice. The vastness of the land seemed to go on forever, and it was full of Arthas' army, and for every man or woman they lost, it became bigger. Was there victory against such a foe?

"We will," he said with a smile, "we've seen his heart, we saw him wounded. It may not have been enough to finish him off, but it shows us there is a glimmer of hope."

She stifled a dismissive snort, and instead tried to focus on that hope. She had long believed that power was the way to victory, but look at what it had done to those who followed that philosophy. Arthas, Illidan, Kael...all of them had become slaves to it and had to be destroyed. What was left to them but hope?

A loud squawk distracted her, and she looked up to see a dragonhawk circling above, coming in for a landing. This was a regular occurrence but for some reason, this one grabbed her attention. She smiled when she saw that the rider was a troll, in full plate padded with fur to keep him warm, and a long nasty blade on his back.

She excused herself from Fordring, who nodded with a smile at her, and went to meet the new arrival. He jumped off the flying beast and stamped his feet into the snow a few times to get his blood pumping. Her heart leaped when he flashed his brilliant smile upon seeing her.

"Typical," he said when she was close enough, "I hurry to git up ere and find ya've taken all de fun."

She laughed and wrapped her arms about his waist as he pulled her in for a kiss. The cold no longer bit into her bones, she could feel warmth and comfort filling her instead. The vast hopelessness of Icecrown no longer seemed to matter to her, because he was here.

"Don't worry," she said when they parted, "there's lots more fun to be had here."


End file.
